


like father, like son

by egare



Category: Dream SMP - Fandom, Minecraft (Video Game)
Genre: Comedy, Crack Treated Seriously, Found Family (Derogatory), Gen, Other characters mentioned - Freeform, Sam | Awesamdude is Alexis | Quackity's Parent, don't even ask! don't even ask me I don't know where this came from!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-05
Updated: 2021-03-05
Packaged: 2021-03-19 03:42:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,426
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29868609
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/egare/pseuds/egare
Summary: “Ladies and gentlemen,” Karl spoke with a tone that demanded no further interruptions, “I have gathered you all here today to discuss a very important topic that will influence not only the future of the Kinoko Kingdom, but perhaps the entire SMP itself.”He centered the first sign on the wall opposite of the jury, words written comically large, and stepped back to let them all take it in. Quackity wished he had set a table up as well, if only to have something to bang his head against as he read the title.There, carved in dark oak and dyed white, was the question of the hour: PHILZA MINECRAFT = QUACKITY’S DAD?
Relationships: Alexis | Quackity & Karl Jacobs & Sapnap, Alexis | Quackity & Phil Watson
Comments: 10
Kudos: 172





	like father, like son

Quackity… never expected to be brought to court.

He shifted in his seat, a chair that had been crudely labelled “Defendant’s Chair” with a wooden sign, and straightened up his tie for the umpteenth time. To his left was another chair, empty, a matching “Prosecutor’s Chair” sign marking it on the back. To his right, running along the wall, was a line of nine chairs, fences separating them from what Quackity was starting to consider the main floor. Five were occupied— Callahan, sitting silently in the first chair; Tommy, Tubbo, Ranboo, and Ghostbur, muttering amongst themselves and looking equally as confused as he felt— and the other four were empty, no hints available to suggest who might be meant to fill them.

Oddly enough, George sat at the head of the room, two blocks above the rest of them on what Quackity assumed was their interpretation of the judge’s bench. To his side, one block below, was a seat for witnesses, fenced in and its gate currently left open. Sam stood in front of him, the only person in armor and his sword at his side, a bailiff off duty.

The sound of the door opening behind him caught Quackity’s attention and he turned, curious to see who it was. He cocked an eyebrow at the sight of Karl entering the room, Sapnap trailing a step behind; it was odd to see them in suits— slightly personalized, Sapnap opting for no tie and Karl very clearly wearing his hoodie rather than a button-down— and something seemed… off, about the two of them. He watched his fiancés make their way down the aisle, Karl stopping at the prosecutor’s chair and stared at it briefly before setting out a makeshift table in front of it, placing a briefcase that looked suspiciously like a flattened enderchest on top of it. Sapnap met his gaze, offering a smile, and Quackity narrowed his eyes as he finally realized what felt odd.

“Are those my suits?” he accused.

“No,” Karl responded, pulling on the sleeves of the suit he had taken from Quackity’s closet. He opened up the very-clearly-just-an-enderchest briefcase, pulling out a few signs and setting them upside down on the table, unable to be read. It took a moment, but the scene in front of Quackity finally registered, and he questioned, indignant,

“Wait, why did you take me to _court?_ ”

He glanced over to the door, noting Punz, Bad, and Puffy’s entrance, as Karl responded, “It’s nothing bad.”

“Nothing bad? Karl, it’s—”

“Ladies and gentlemen of the jury,” Karl interrupted, looking to the six occupied seats, before turning to George, “Your honor. I ha—”

“Wait, if I’m the judge, where’s my gavel?” George joked, not expecting him to have a serious answer in return,

“It should be in the left chest, your honor.”

The sound of the chest opening. “There’s only a bunch of pebbles?”

Karl paused, looking to Sapnap, who pointedly did not make eye contact with him as he admitted sheepishly, “I thought you said gravel!”

They fell silent. George took out a handful of gravel, briefly considering aerodynamics, and if the rocks would make it all the way across the room to hit the prosecutors.

“Anyways, I—”

“Shouldn’t we wait for the last person?” Puffy interrupted, glancing to the empty chair at her side. Sapnap responded this time, shrugging,

“Their fault for not showing up.”

“Ladies and gentlemen,” Karl spoke with a tone that demanded no further interruptions, “I have gathered you all here today to discuss a very important topic that will influence not only the future of the Kinoko Kingdom, but perhaps the entire SMP itself.”

He centered the first sign on the wall opposite of the jury, words written comically large, and stepped back to let them all take it in. Quackity wished he had set a table up as well, if only to have something to bang his head against as he read the title.

There, carved in dark oak and dyed white, was the question of the hour: PHILZA MINECRAFT = QUACKITY’S DAD?

“People of the court,” Karl continued, fingers steepled in front of him as he began to pace the main floor, “I have reason to believe that Quackity Jacobs-HQ-Halo is, in fact, Quackity Jacobs-HQ-Halo- _Minecraft_.”

“The court has come to a decision, you’re probably right.” George agreed, moving to stand from his chair. 

“Then why are we even here for this?” Ranboo muttered from the jury, unimpressed with what he had been dragged away from his work for.

Quackity groaned, already exasperated, “Philza Minecraft isn’t my dad!”

Eyes focused on him behind white glasses and George decided, announcing rather plainly, “I can see it.” 

“We don’t even look alike!” 

“Which leads me to my first point,” Karl began again, putting up a second sign, the word SHAPESHIFTER etched into the wood, “I have collected evidence that suggests you have changed your appearance at least 89 times. So, you might have shapeshifted to look different from Philza at a young age, and forgot you had an original form in the first place.”

“Like in Thor.” said Tommy, understanding Karl’s point completely.

“Exactly like in Thor.” he agreed, “But you know the one thing he can’t hide? The one thing that he’s had to adjust all his forms for?”

A second sign goes up beside the first, a poorly drawn set of wings. “His wings. And only one other person has wings on this server. Sapnap, who is it again?”

And he dutifully provided a grin on his face, “If I remember correctly, Karl, I think it’s Philza Minecraft.”

“Now, you might be asking, ‘But Mr. Jacobs, Philza Minecraft’s wings are black, they look nothing like Quackity’s, how can they be related?’ to which I present: this.” 

Four item frames went up on the wall and a picture was stretched out across them, discolored from age and torn at the edges. But the image was clear enough, signed over with a faded _Antarctic Empire pog._ On the left of the picture sat Technoblade, in his late teens with a red cape draped over his shoulders and dressed in a uniform of blue. He appeared surprised, not expecting the camera as he looked over his shoulder. Phil sat to his right, dressed similarly, with an equally surprised expression.

“No way.” He wasn’t sure which of the jury had voiced what they were all thinking.

On Phil’s back was a set of lax wings, extravagant and golden.

“How did we not know this—”

“They just look like a bigger version of Quackity’s?”

The group grew loud in their outrage and George picked up a handful of gravel, tossing it into the center of the room. “Quiet in the court! Shut up!”

“His wings turned black after the explosion!” Karl shouted to be heard over the chaos, Quackity shouting his denial in return but drowned out by his fiancé’s final statement, “People of the court, I rest my case: Philza Minecraft is Quackity’s dad.”

“This means nothing!” 

“You want more? Fine!” Karl set out another sign, this one labelled ‘bird instincts’. “I asked Mr. Minecraft the following question: ‘Would you push Quackity out of a tree?’ and he responded, and might I point out he responded _without_ hesitation, a very resounding _yes_. If that isn’t bird instinct for teaching one of his young how to fly, I don’t know what it is, your honor.”

“It’s called him hating my fucking guts, Karl!” 

Karl paused, considering the counterargument. “Alright, alright, I’ll give you that. But I still have more! Sam? To the stand, please.”

“Sam?” Quackity looked toward the bailiff, taking in the surprised expression on the creeper’s face; he didn’t expect to be called to the stand, and he sat in it with great hesitation. Karl stood and moved to stand on the other side of the fence, leaning against it as he began,

“We all know that you essentially adopted Quackity at a young age, yes?”

Sam was already on edge. “...yes?”

“And I hate to bring up bad memories, but do you recall why you had to take him in?”

“His mom died... when he was young. About four or so.” Sam didn’t quite understand where he was going with this; Quackity, meanwhile, knew exactly where Karl was headed, and groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“So you took him in after his mother died.”

“...yes.”

“What about the father?” Sam raised his eyebrows, surprised at the question. “Answer the question, please. Where was the father during all this?”

Quackity stood, protesting, “Objection, your honor—”

“Overruled.” George didn’t give him a passing glance, too invested in the story being told. Sam continued, glancing toward the jury before returning his gaze to Karl,

“He, uh, left when Quackity was young. Barely a year old.”

“Did he ever come to visit?”

“...not that I heard of.”

“No, no, no, I mean after his mother died.”

Sam looked to Quackity before clearing his throat, admitting with great hesitance, “He sent a letter once, two years after Quackity had been living with me. Said he just heard the news, offered to take Quackity back.”

“Two years, that’s a long time to not check in on his kid.”

“He said he was busy. Place didn’t have much signal.”

“Oh?” That was the piece of information that tied the whole argument together, Quackity could see it in Karl’s growing excitement. “So Quackity’s dad leaves when he’s one year old, and five years later he finally gets enough reception to find out about the news of his mother’s death?”

Quackity stood, interrupting, “Your honor, that’s completely coincidental—”

“Keep going.”

“There’s really only a few servers that have bad enough reception and no one working them, to not be able to get news of your child’s _mother_ ’s death to you,” Karl continued, “Hunger games competitions, but those don’t last that long. 2b2t, but if you have the ability to live for years there you probably have the… skills, to get your communicator up and running enough to receive the news. Hardcore worlds, though?”

Quackity turned to Ghostbur and Tommy in the jury, desperate to find someone else who knew how ridiculous this all sounded. He nearly lost a canon life at the sight of Tommy’s careful consideration.

“I’d like to bring up another piece of evidence, your honor. Ghostbur, if you could stand up please?” Ghostbur complied, unbothered by the request. Karl turned to Quackity, “Big Q, if you could stand next to him, please.”

With great hesitation, he complied. 

“Your honor, ladies and gentlemen of the jury, just… look at the two of them.” He gestured between the two. “I’ve never seen either of them without a beanie. Look at their faces, nearly identical in shape. Notice the matching calluses from playing the guitar? Y’know, creativity runs in the family. There’s all these similarities, I might almost say they could be related. Brothers, even. But that isn’t the point I’m trying to make, here.”

He pulled out a tape measure, holding it beside the two; between Quackity and Ghostbur’s heights, but closer to the former, was a mark labeled ‘Philza Minecraft’, bolded and highlighted.

“That doesn’t even mean anything!” Quackity began, confused at the second uproar that began in the courtroom. Karl shouted his conclusion above the crowd, gleefully

“No one else is that short!”

“Welcome to the family, Big Q!” Ghostbur said cheerfully, moving to pat him on the back and momentarily forgetting that he couldn’t interact with the physical, his hand moving through Quackity’s shoulder. “Or, welcome back, I think—?”

“Philza Minecraft’s not my dad!” He turned to George, desperate, “Come on, man, you’re the same height as me, you know it means nothing—”

“Excuse you, I’m taller.”

“By one inch!”

“I think I have all the evidence I need.” George slammed his hand on the bench a few times, tossing another handful of gravel, “I declare the defendant gu—”

“Can I at least bring my witness?” Quackity interrupted. The court quieted down, surprised; Karl turned to face him, disbelief evident,

“Your— you have a witness?”

“Mhm.” Quackity turned to the apparition beside him, unbothered, “Ghostbur, can you pull out your phone for me?”

Karl laughed, hesitant, “W-Wait a minute, Big Q—“

“Can you call Phil?”

A chorus of whispers began in the jury once again, surprised at the turn of events. Ghostbur began the call, putting it to speaker and allowing rings to echo throughout the courtroom as they waited for Phil to answer. Karl began to protest, saying that he might already be busy, when the ringing ended, a voice coming through, cautious.

“Hello?”

“Hey Phil!” Tommy and Ghostbur greeted, the only reasons Phil didn’t automatically hang up. Ghostbur glanced to Quackity, unsure what to do next, and continued after a small nod, “Hey, Philza, I just have a quick question I had to ask you. A small thing, really.”

He relaxed, staying quiet, before offering encouragement for Ghostbur to continue when he didn’t on his own, “Shoot.”

“Is Quackity your son?”

The silence was palpable. 

Karl, who truth be told did not actually expect Philza Minecraft to be Quackity’s father, was gleeful at the fact that he hadn’t said no immediately. Puffy looked between Ghostbur and Quackity with new consideration, trying to find more similarities. The rest turned to Quackity, who had returned to the defendant’s chair, looking extremely put-off by the fact that they hadn’t received an automatic response. Ghostbur let another second pass before questioning him again, almost unsure if they had lost the connection.

“Phil?”

He hung up without a response.

“Let’s go!” Sapnap and Karl cheered, high-fiving one another and dissolving into laughter. Quackity held his head in his hands in disbelief, muttering to himself.

“We should call Fundy, tell him Big Q’s here to take over the daddy issues arc—” Tubbo commented; he came to a sudden realization, raising his eyebrows, “Shit, Big Q, we put your dad under house arrest.”

“There are so many bigger problems than that right now, Tubbo.”

Ghostbur did not pick up on Quackity’s mood, commenting cheerfully, “Y’know, I think ‘5/5 SBI’ has a nice ring to it—”

“Don’t.” he shook his head, letting out a scoff in disbelief, “This can’t be real.”

“Come on, Big Q, it isn’t so bad,” Tubbo glanced to Ghostbur who nodded along, agreeing,

“The next family dinner's Saturday. Techno’s making a roast!”

Quackity buried his head in his hands, groaning, “Shit, _Technoblade._ ”  
  
And Tommy clapped him on the shoulder, grin wide, "Welcome to the family, big man."


End file.
